Slice, Dig, Rip!
by Alice Redqueen
Summary: Based on the Japanese Clock Tower Adventure Novels. Jennifer's B ending takes a new twist, and learns something new about her own bloodlines. Rated M for gore and violence.


Slice, Dig, Rip!

Finally, a crimson spray erupted from his body, covering the bed sheets beneath him in that red, sticky substance. As its stench lingered in the air, the murderer let her weapon clatter to the wooden floor. She climbed off of him before slumping in the bed next to the corpse, the bed so saturated that blood pooled around her bare knees. Her nightgown, half pulled-off in the night's romance, was also soaked and hung off of her body like a red stola. As her breath entered and exited her shapely ribs, the murderer looked back at her handiwork. Tears almost blossomed at the corners of her eyes, but a quick blink laid them to rest.

"Nolan..." A tear couldn't be held back this time, and when it trickled down her cheek she brushed it off with her thumb-- leaving an unsightly red streak on her innocent face. The body of Nolan Campbell, his eyes still gazing adoringly at where his love had been before, laid beside her. The job was quick, but it was messy. Perhaps it was because she used a common kitchen knife-- not a dull one, of course, but one that had been used to cut the steaks that they had eaten earlier that evening. In the midst of their passion, the murderer sliced her weapon across his throat. As blood pooled out and Nolan (in a daze), reached his arm out towards her, she dug her knife into his Adam's apple. She took pleasure for a moment in the sickening 'squelching' sound the knife made before she ripped it down his neck and chest, leaving an odd sort of crucifix carved on his body. It was just that easy: Slice, Dig, Rip. Slice, Dig, Rip.

The woman stopped herself as she found herself making the motions in the air once again with her hand. Like it was any ordinary night, she pulled the comforter up to her chest and laid down on her pillow. The coldness of the blood was getting to her, and she just wanted to rest for a minute and remember exactly what it was that got her to the point in her life.

"Nolan!" Jennifer's cried out as she clung to the railing. There was something behind her, something she feared worse than the Scissorman who clung to her leg. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but it wrapped its hand around her very core and held it in such a grip that her cry to the man came out as barely a whisper. There had to be some way to get him off of her, to send him into the darkness and let her run into Nolan's arms.

Then it came to her. Well, it was more like she felt it cut into her. The dagger that she had collected had sliced into her thigh, giving her a painful reminder that she indeed did have something to defend herself with. She quickly reached back and ripped the dagger out of her hip. Then, with all of the might in her slim frame, she slammed it into the Scissorman's hand. With an inhuman cry he let go of her ankle and fell back into the void.

Unfortunately, so did she.

* * *

"Jennifer..."

"Oh, Jennifer..."

"It doesn't have to end this way..."

The voice was sweet and youthful, and when she opened her eyes Jennifer Simpson saw not the wretched Scissorman but the fair boy, Edward. But it is a shame that things are not always as they seem, for Edward's hand had blood trickling down and dripping into the hungry void that they existed in.

"Dan..." Jennifer choked, memories of flames and cradles flooding her head. The boy nodded and said, "You don't want to exist like this, do you? So cold and alone, always alone." Jennifer said nothing, and so the darkness started to swallow her. As the oil-like Hell grew thicker around her, choking and pleasuring all at once, Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for it to end. However, it didn't.

"NO!" her scream send the oil flying away as shards of a broken mirror, and left Jennifer sitting in darkness. She looked around wildly, and screamed again when she felt a cold hand against her thigh. Looking down, she saw Edward's young hand, dripping with his own blood, caressing her wound like it was a precious doll.

"Look at our blood, Jennifer. Look at how similar it is. You've noticed it, haven't you?"

"I don't understand."

His laughter was angelic, enough so to make tears rise to Jennifer's murky eyes.

"We are the same, you and I. We are of the same blood. You are a Burroughs, as I am." There was nothing but silence after Edward said that. Not even his fingers rubbing and playing with the gash on her leg caused her to react-- she had gone numb. Gradually, however, his voice seemed to come back, lilting on the air like a nightingales' note. It was so sweet that Jennifer had no choice but to rest her head on the boy's shoulder, her chest rising and falling as her cold breath lapped at his collarbone like a thousand kisses.

"Your mother was a Burroughs. Your father was a Simpson. Though your name may be hesitant to admit it, your blood does not lie!" With this he slipped a finger into her wound, tearing at flesh and ripping through muscle. Jennifer screamed.

"I can feel it, Jennifer. Your blood is screaming for you to accept it."

"Dad..."

"Stop listening to your father's side! The Simpson blood is cold and clammy, but the Burroughs' is full of passion and life. You want to live, don't you? Live the life that only I can give, Jennifer."

* * *

Jennifer peeled the covers off of her body and sat up. Blood was still oozing from Nolan's body, and his warmth had not completely disappeared. She leaned over him one last time, her eyelashes barely scraping his cheek. Her lips almost met his, but like a wind-up-doll's momentum suddenly slows and dies, so did Jennifer's movement. After a moment of hovering over him, she stood back up straight and climbed off of the bed. She picked up the knife that had been forgotten and let its cool hilt meld to her soft, wet fingers. Slowly she turned and walked to the long mirror that was beside the bathroom door. What seemed like years before had only been a few hours-- Jennifer and Nolan hugging and kissing, laughing at each other's expressions in the reflective pool.

Jennifer looked at the mirror again, and smiled sadly. Behind the glass on the other side was that angelic boy, a serene smile on his glossed lips and fireflies dancing in his blue, empty eyes. With her knife still in one hand, she knelt forward and met the boy's lips: sealing their eternal marriage.


End file.
